


Mac N Cheese: Peralta Stylez

by goldensteps



Series: Team Peralta [3]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Jake Peralta Father, Loss of Parent(s), Parent Jake Peralta, Parents Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Single Dad Jake Peralta, cause y'all asked for her, good ol fashioned teen angst, oof more charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 15:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensteps/pseuds/goldensteps
Summary: Jake opens the door to see his daughter soaked from the rain, face red from the cold, clearly radiating anger. His mirror image, sporting the same tells he had as a teenager, all clenched fists and glistening eyes.“Charlie? Are you okay? I thought you were sleeping over with Iggy?”She stares at him for a minute before rushing forward and throwing her arms around him, her tiny shoulders shaking with sobs.(in which jake peralta is a single dad who is Trying His Best and his daughter is an angsty lil disaster. takes place after Team Peralta but should work as a stand alone.)





	Mac N Cheese: Peralta Stylez

**Author's Note:**

> look dudes imma be real this story is kinda half baked but if i didnt post somethin i might never write charlie again and i have too much charlie nonsense and too many rough drafts to do that lmao. so pls enjoy, ily

Jake tries not to take the whole thing personally, cause dude, once again he owes his best friend Big Time. Gina never had to ask if he needed someone to make sure his kid eats on the nights he isn’t home, or if he could use a hand in making sure she’s okay amid all the extra shifts he’s taking ~~(partially cause his newly single parent household needs the money and partially cause work is the only thing that takes his mind off how empty everything feels)~~ , or if he needed her to let his kid sleep over just about every other weekend. Gina just took care of it for them, and he’ll never stop owing her. He’s grateful.

But he misses his kid.

He misses the dynamite little ball of energy, rocketing off the walls, all crazy wild brown hair and missing teeth, going on and on about her imaginary friends and her day at school. Talking his ear off in the car, riding on his shoulders, screaming and giggling and pushing her face up against his. Nose to nose, sticky hands on his cheeks, her giant brown eyes too big for her little face, the mirror image of his own. 

He misses the elementary schooler who’d paint his nails and tell him made up stories, who picked him first for tea parties, who didn’t trust anyone but him to do her hair before school.

He misses the pre-teen who’d corner him and jump straight into a long and complicated story about who said what about who on which field trip, about annoying teachers and dumb coaches and The Most Embarrassing Thing To Ever Happen In The History The World (an event that seems to occur almost weekly when you’re in middle school). Trips to Sal’s and gossip over pizza and doing his absolute best to remember everyone’s name, trying to solidify the distinction between Kaitlyn H, Caitlyn M, and Cailyn L. Being her number one confidant, before anyone else.

Now she hardly looks at him unless they’re fighting. Which they sort of kind of tend to do a lot. Cause both of them are hurting like hell and nobody knows where to start with the elephant in the room. The gaping absence in the apartment. 

**\- o -**

Charlie drops her bag in the entryway with a thump.

“Linettis, the third musketeer has returned,” she calls out. She’s in a really good mood, the first one she’s had in a while. Dad gave her phone back, she passed her calc exam with an 80, and it’s just the right level of cool outside, the smell of a storm on the air. She positively lives for storms.

“In here” Gina shouts back, and Charlie follows her voice into the living room where she’s stretched out on the couch, wolf blanket and face mask on, watching The Bachelor. 

“I’ll trade you a french braid for painted nails at commercial break.” she offers, eyes glued to the TV.

Charlie grins “Deal.”

She takes out her phone and shoots a quick text to Iggy

**get out here dweeb, ur gonna miss the rose ceremony**

She should probably start on all the homework she didn’t do in detention, but that sounds like the perfect way to ruin a good day, so instead she plops down into her favorite squishy armchair and waits for the episode to end so she and Iggy can commandeer the remote and binge some 90s sitcoms.  
**\- o -**

So not to be clingy or whatever, but it’s been 20 minutes and Charlie still hasn’t gotten a text back, which is weird.

“Where’s Iggs?” she asks, shaking the bottle of hot pink nail polish Gina hands her.

“She didn’t tell you? She’s on a date with that boy from soccer. Trent? Tyler?”

Charlie’s heart sinks 

“Trevor.” 

“Yeah, that one.”

And she does _not_ feel like she just got punched in the gut because it’s perfectly normal for her perfectly gorgeous best friend to have plans on a friday night. Nope. Nosiree, no angst here.

“Oh, I didn’t. Realize she uh. Liked him like that.” 

Gina rolls her eyes

“He seems a little too bland for her, personally. He’s a teensy tiny lil tuna and she’s a magnificent mermaid. But what do I know, I’m just her mother.”

Charlie lets out a nervous, half hearted giggle.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Just us tonight, because my daughter is off pretending to be a basic bitch.”

The smile doesn’t quite reach Charlie’s eyes.

She starts on Gina’s manicure, working quietly. The episode ends and her namesake picks up the remote and turns the T.V. off, rather than beginning their usual friday night DVR crawl. She feels Gina’s eyes on her and the ever-present rock in her throat gets heavier. Because she knows what’s coming, and God, not to be a bitch but it’s hard not to get tired of all the over-concerned-but-well-meaning adults trying to have heart to hearts with her lately. Gina had been an exception, until now, apparently.

“So you’re spending a lot of time here lately.” Gina states. 

Charlie’s face snaps up

“That’s okay right? I can pay you back for dinner if you want. I think I have-“

Gina waves her off

“Don’t be stupid. You know I got you,” she brushes a strand of Charlie’s hair behind her ear. “I’m just worried about your Dad, kiddo.”

Charlie focuses intently on the little black dots she’s painting on Gina’s ring fingernail.

“Watermelon slices, because you adore the summertime.”

Gina observes.

“Cute. I think I have some lime green in the bathroom drawer for the tips.”

Charlie unfolds herself from the couch and stretches

“Be right back”

The Linettis bathroom is always a mess, but it’s different this time. Iggy’s curling iron is still plugged in, there’s a box of fake lashes open, and her lipstick has been left uncapped. The darkish red, “special occasions” one. She only gets that dolled up when she _really_ cares about looking good.

So she legitimately does like this Trevor idiot.

Charlie tries to remind herself she doesn’t have any right to get angry that Trevor gets to see her best friend looking so gorgeous. Enigma is fucking breathtaking as is, dark auburn red hair and big round blue eyes, but when she really turns it on she looks like a goddamn movie star. Like someone way too glamorous to live in Brooklyn. When Iggy gets dressed up like that, part of Charlie gets scared some talent scout like in the movies is going to say “Oh, no, you don’t belong here” and whisk her away to someplace else. Someplace better.

She unplugs the curling iron and resists the urge to slam the lipstick in the trash, choosing instead to gently cap in and put it in the drawer.

**\- o -**

The watermelon nails only serve to delay the inevitable, because while she gets out of the whole “hey kid uh why do you refuse to spend any time in Your Own House” conversation long enough for an old Friends rerun and a discussion about the validity of that night’s Bachelor decisions, Gina brings it up again as she’s securing a scrunchie at the bottom of Charlie’s french braid.

“So,” she begins as Charlie turns around, “about your Dad.”

Charlie sucks in air through her teeth and clenches her jaw, flooded with the familiar feeling of anger whose origin she can never quite place. 

“Sweetheart, I’m worried about him. I’m worried about both of you.”

“Don’t be. Okay?” She all but spits. “He’s doing great. Taking every extra shift he can. Y’know. Playing hero cop.”

“He misses you.”

Charlie can’t help but roll her eyes at that. 

“Uh huh. That’s why he’s working right now. Just like last night. And the night before.”

“Charlie. Look, if he brings it up I’ll deny it, but your dad is my best friend. And I know he’s worried about you.”

“Worried that I’ll embarrass him.”

Gina gives her a searching look.

“Kid. I love you, okay? I love having you here. But do you ever think about how he must feel? Alone in that apartment?”

Charlie does her best to swallow the rock in her throat.

“I’m not his babysitter. If he cared he’d talk to me.”

She looks up into her namesakes eyes.

“Gina, he doesn’t even ask about my day anymore. He comes home and tells me to do my homework, or yells. All we do is argue.”

“Do you ask about his?”

It’s weird how that question hits her.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s perfect. I’m just saying, he cares about you. And he’s lonely.”

Before Charlie can respond, the front door creaks open and there she is. The Enigma. She’s giddy and grinning and glowing. A supernova has entered the apartment, smudged lipstick and messy hair, eyes glazed just enough that her best friend notices, but her mother does not.” 

“Do we have anything to eat? I’m starving.”

Gina gives her the once over and jerks her thumb toward the kitchen 

“Leftover chinese in the fridge.”

“Cool. Hey Charlie,” She winks. Charlie blushes, and immediately gets mildly pissed, cause what the fuck is that. She follows her best friend into the kitchen, leans against the counter and crosses her arms.

“So. How’d it go.”

Iggy opens the fridge and Charlie can hear the smile in her voice, as well as the tipsiness. 

“Fantastic. He’s so…”

“Conventionally attractive?” She does a shitty job hiding the snark behind her words, but she’s still a little riled about Gina taking her Dad’s side, so whatever. Iggy gives her a quizzical look and starts loading up a plate for the microwave.

“Well. I mean, yeah. But that’s not all there is to him.”

Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Oh sure, I bet your conversation is positively scintillating. What, do you sit around and recommend teeth whitening strips to each other? Compare skincare routines?”

Iggy slams the microwave shut and turns around.

“Dude, what’s your deal?”

“Beside the fact that my mom died? Are you getting tired of playing babysitter yet?”

“What? Charlie it’s not like that. What are you even talking about.”

“I mean, you’d rather hang out with a guy who’s got the personality of a wet paper towel than me. I must be a real drag right.”

Iggy’s face darkens

“I never said that. He’s interesting, okay? I thought you knew I had plans.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.”

“Okay, well next time i’ll be sure to inform my secretary to pass the note along.”

“Just tell her to write BC on your calendar, for booty call.”

Iggy puts her hands on her hips and Charlie burns at how inferior that simple gesture makes her feel.

“I love you, but you’re acting like a total bitch. Besides, what do you know about guys? You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

The microwave dings and Charlie leaves, slamming the door behind her.

The walk home is miserable. The storm has arrived and instead of listening to it tap at the windows curled up on the couch with her favorite person, she’s trudging through heavy drops that sting her face and curl her hair, and the uncomfortable adrenaline that ricocheted her out of the apartment is wearing away like a wet piece of paper. And, goddammit, once again she wants her fucking mom.

**\- o -**

Jake opens the door to see his daughter soaked from the rain, face red from the cold, clearly radiating anger. His mirror image, sporting the same tells he had as a teenager, all clenched fists and glistening eyes. 

“Charlie? Are you okay? I thought you were sleeping over with Iggy?”

She stares at him for a minute before rushing forward and throwing her arms around him, her tiny shoulders shaking with sobs. And oh, oh shit, okay, okay. She hasn’t let herself get vulnerable like this in. Months.

He quickly recovers from his shock, placing a hand on her back and stroking her hair with the other. 

She sniffles and pulls back.

“God, I’m sorry. You’re soaked too now.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He searches her face, and she wipes her nose on her sleeve, shrugging.

“Just dumb girl stuff. I’m really hungry.”

“I’m making mac and cheese.”

**\- o -**

Accepting each other’s presence isn’t exactly common in the Santiago-Peralta household here lately, but she curls up on the couch in fuzzy pajama pants and an old NYPD hoodie, and they eat kraft mac peralta-stylez (read: no milk. just butter, cheese powder, and noodles, consumed straight out of the pot they were cooked in ) and watch Die Hard. 

He reverts to his usual Favorite Movie Schtick, commenting constantly on the badassery of John McClane and pointing at the screen every two minutes to exclaim “I’ve been in that building!”, and out of the corner of his eye he sees his glum kid perk up and give half-hearted grins and eye rolls and okay, okay, this is good, they’re not screaming at eachother and this is good.

During a quiet moment, Charlie speaks.

“Hey. Uh, Dad, can you maybe. Re-do my hair? It sort of fell out in the rain.”

He gets a warm feeling in his chest

“Of course.”

He gently brushes it out and starts sectioning it off to braid

“H-how was your day?”

He’s surprised again

“Oh. Uh, not bad. Long. Lots of paperwork. But I got most of it done.”

“Cool. Good job.”

There’s a pause and it feels weird to have shared that small detail with her, but he’s glad he did.

“Mine was… Mostly good. But kinda shitty at the end. I kinda acted like a total bitch” she offers

He doesn’t reprimand her for the language

“I’m sorry. Do you...wanna talk about it?” he asks, gently securing her hair tie into the delicate french braid.

She turns around

“Yeah. I kinda do. Is that...okay?”

He pauses the movie

“Shoot.”

**\- o -**

An hour later they’re both bloated in carb-comas, and Charlie’s dozing off next to him, drooling the same way she has her whole life. He puts an arm around her and she nuzzles into his shoulder, snoring lightly. He kisses her forehead, and in the blue light of the TV, with the Die Hard extras murmuring softly in the background, for the first time in a while, he feels like they might be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so so much for reading!!! hope you enjoyed!!! as always, kudos and/or a comment will make my week!!! love you!!!!


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